


Brace For It

by you_a_southpaw_doll_45



Category: The Walking Dead & Related Fandoms, The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Angry Negan, Caring Negan, F/M, JDM, Jeffrey Dean Morgan - Freeform, Negan Fluff, Negan One-Shot, Protective Negan, the walking dead - Freeform, twd
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-02
Updated: 2018-12-02
Packaged: 2019-09-05 12:14:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16810393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/you_a_southpaw_doll_45/pseuds/you_a_southpaw_doll_45
Summary: You’ve been dealing with shoulder pain for years now, stemming from multiple shoulder injuries as you grew up. Your doctor had told you that in order to keep from further damaging your shoulder, you’d have to wear a certain brace, every day, that would help offer stability, compression, and support to your weakened joint. You’d gotten your most recent one a few months before the apocalypse started. That was two years ago. Now, the time has come where you need to get a new one, which is easier said than done. ‘Specially since you’ve managed to hide your injuries from everyone, including Negan, save for your best friend for years. Eventually, Negan finds out ‘bout your predicament and offers to help in any way he can.





	Brace For It

**Author's Note:**

> Warning(s): Explicit language. Angry Negan. Protective Negan. Caring Negan. Slight sexual harassment. Slight beating with Lucille. Fluff. Also, the wives aren’t a thing in this story; Negan’s a single man.
> 
> Author's Note(s):  
> So…first, I’m kinda, only partially sorry that this is such a long fic, but I couldn’t get what I wanted to across if it was short. Plus, that just means that there’s more Cute Negan, which is always a plus, right? 
> 
> The relationship between the reader and the reader’s best friend is strictly platonic. And the relationship between Negan and the reader starts out platonic, turns into a friendship with a hint of flirtiness to it, and it might turn into something more. ;)
> 
> Also, another thing that I’m sure you already know, but I just wanna clarify:  
> Y/N = Your name  
> Y/B/F/N = Your best friend’s first name

As soon as you feel the looseness ‘round your shoulder, you sigh. You knew this day was going to happen, but you’d hoped you could push it off for as long as possible. You drop the wrench in your hand and hear it softly clang against the top of the engine. You pull the collar of your shirt away using your right hand and glance down your shirt. What you see confirms your thoughts, well fears really. Your shoulder brace has finally broken. It’s been on its last strands for a few months now, but since it’s your only one, it’s not like you couldn’t not use it.

You let your shirt fall back into place as you step away from the broken down pickup truck in front of you. You look ‘round for your boss, and see his feet peeking out from underneath the Honda Civic two cars over. You tread, carefully and softly, over to him. If you walk too fast, it’ll jostle your arm too much, and that’s the last thing you need right now. Plus, you like to be quiet when you walk, so you normally walk as carefully as you can.

“Hey, Arthur?” You ask your boss, quietly, once you reach him.

“Yea?” He inquires, still under the vehicle.

“Um…I gotta run back to my room real quick. Is that ok?”

He slides out from under the Civic and looks at you, confused.

“Have you finished fixing the engine on the truck yet?” He asks, wiping his forehead, and effectively smearing oil and grease across it.

Normally, you’d shake your head, but even that small of a movement causes a lot of pain to shoot through your shoulder and entire arm. Instead, you give him a verbal answer.

“No, sir. Not yet. It’s almost fixed, though.” You say.

He sighs. “Finish it, then you can go to your room to do what you need.”

“Sir. Please. I can’t finish it till after I go to my room. It’s an emergency.”

He cocks an eyebrow. “You disobeying an order, (Y/N)?”

‘Not intentionally, sir. But please. I promise I’ll finish when I get back.”

“No. You’re going to finish it now. And that’s final.”

“Yes, sir.”

You sigh, trying not to let the tears you feel welling up in your eyes fall. You can feel the tingling in the tips of your fingers and you know that’s not good. If you had the brace working like it was supposed to, you’d be fine. You wouldn’t feel the tingling, or the numbness that’s ‘bout to start in the next few minutes. Arthur slides back under the car, getting back to his task. Turning on your heel, you make your way back over to the truck. Grabbing the wrench in your right hand, you struggle as you try to get back to work. You can’t focus on your task ‘cause of the pain now radiating throughout your entire left arm, and spreading to your chest.

This would be faster and better if you had the brace. Then you could use your dominant hand. One of the other guys you work with walks behind you, and snaps your bra strap against your injured shoulder. You let out a scream of pain and this time, can’t help the tears that escape. You hunch over the engine in pain as the wrench that was in your hand clatters to the floor.

“What the fuck is goin’ on in here?”

You try to force yourself to stand up as soon as you hear that voice. His voice. But, you can’t. You’re in too much pain. You hear the heavy footfalls as they move from the opposite end of the garage to closer where you are. They stop a few feet from you. On your left side. You feel a heavy hand on your left shoulder, which just makes you cry out again. It’s too much. The hand jerks back.

“What the fuck?” You hear him ask again. “Doll?”

You turn your head to the left and look at him. He’s clad in his signature leather jacket, with a white t-shirt underneath, dark grey jeans tucked in his boots, and Lucille dangling from his fingers. Your eyes slowly lift to meet his. His facial expression is one of anger, hurt, and confusion. You try to push yourself up into a standing position once more, using your right hand. Your left arm is just dangling by your side, completely useless. Once you’re standing, you lower your eyes from Negan’s. You prop yourself up against the front of the truck.

“Please don’t touch me.” You mumble.

“Well, shit. My bad. I won’t fuckin’ touch you if you don’t want me to. I was just trying to fuckin’ see if you were ok.” He says.

You want to say yes, but he’d know you were lying, and he doesn’t tolerate liars. He’s made that obvious in the year and a half you’ve lived at Sanctuary.

“No, sir.” You mumble, honestly, and through gritted teeth.

“I can fuckin’ see that. What the fuck happened?” He asks.

You hesitate, and you can tell that he’s starting to get even more pissed off.

“Doll? I’m waiting.” He says. “And, I don’t like to wait.”

“One of the guys snapped my bra strap against my shoulder.” You say.

“Who?”

“I don’t know.”

“Who did it?” He presses.

“I don’t know, sir. I was working, and had my back turned. I didn’t see who did it.”

You glance up at him. He looks livid. Turning ‘round on his heel, he addresses the entire garage.

“I want every single one of your fuckers over here. Now!” He bellows.

Immediately, all fifteen of the men that work in the garage with you are standing ‘round Negan. The men all stand there, slightly nervous as to what the boss man could want.

“Which one of you assholes snapped this beautiful young lady’s bra strap?” Negan inquires.

No one answers. You glance down to see his fingers tighten ‘round Lucille’s handle.

“I do believe I fuckin’ asked y’all a fuckin’ question, and I fuckin’ expect a fuckin’ answer!” Negan raises his voice.

The men all look ‘round. You notice that one of the men, Frank looks slightly nervous and he tries to hide Jason. Negan must notice it too ‘cause he raises Lucille in Frank’s direction.

“You! Get your ass over here.” He hisses.

Frank slinks up to the front of the group and stands in front of Negan. Lucille is directly in front of his chest, and you guess that Negan presses her further against him, ‘cause Frank lets out a wince.

“Did you do it?” Negan asks.

Frank hesitates.

“Did you fuckin’ do it?” Negan repeats, pushing Lucille further into Frank’s chest.

The barbed wire pierces the fabric of the shirt he’s wearing. Frank grunts in pain.

“Don’t make me repeat myself, asshole.” Negan says. “I’ve already asked twice.”

Frank still doesn’t say anything.

“Did. You. Fuckin’. Do. It?” Negan asks.

“Yes, sir.” Frank replies quietly.

Negan pulls Lucille back. In one quick motion, before you can even take a deep breath in, you watch as Lucille comes down against Frank’s right kneecap. The man crumples to the floor, staring up at Negan.

“You know we don’t fuckin’ do that shit here! We treat women with respect!” Negan bellows.

“Yes, sir! I’m sorry, sir!” Frank pleads, grasping his injured leg with both hands.

“Don’t fuckin’ do it again. Otherwise, you won’t like the consequences very much. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, sir! Crystal!”

“Good. Everyone else get back to work.”

Negan turns to look at you. You've slouched over the engine again, holding your right hand to your left shoulder, trying to ease the pain, but it’s not working.

“You ok, doll?” He asks for the second time since he walked in.

“No, sir.” You mumble.

“C’mon. You’re excused from work. You’re coming with me.”

“I can’t, sir.”

“And why the fuck not?”

“I have to finish workin’ on the engine.”

“You can’t fuckin’ work if you’re not fuckin’ ok. And, I can clearly fuckin’ tell you’re not.”

“Yes, sir.”

You know it’s pointless to try to argue with him. He holds his free hand out to you. He’s giving you the chance to take it, so he doesn’t overstep his boundaries. ‘Specially since you told him not to touch you. He might be a ruthless, bat-wielding leader, but he still respects women and knows when no means no. You remove your right hand from your opposite shoulder and place in it his. A small smile slides across his face. He gently pulls you up into a standing position. At one point, he accidentally pulls too fast, which jostles your bad shoulder, making you cry out again.

He stops and looks at you. “How bad did he snap the strap, doll?”

“I’m not sure.” You reply, honestly.

It’s true. Frank could’ve done it softly, but you wouldn’t’ve been able to know. Not from the pain that erupts throughout your entire body after he did what he did.

“Well, I’m takin’ you to fuckin’ Carson, (Y/N). You shouldn’t be fuckin’ cryin’ out in that much fuckin’ pain from a snapped bra strap.” Negan says.

“I just need to go to my room. I’ll be fine.” You say.

If you go to Carson, then Carson’ll find out ‘bout your injury, and you can’t have that. You’ve managed to keep it hidden since you first met up with Negan after the world went to shit. There’s only one person in the Sanctuary that knows, and that’s your best friend, (Y/B/F/N).

“Like hell. You’re fuckin’ goin’ to Carson.” Negan says.

You look up at him. “Please, sir. Just let me go to my room. I just need to go there and have (Y/B/F/N) there too.”

He stares at you, hard, for a minute. He finally sighs.

“Fine.” He relents.

He tucks Lucille under his arm and reaches for the radio that’s clipped to his belt.

“Simon. Get (Y/B/F/N) and bring her to me. I’m leaving the garage now.” He says into the radio.

“Yes, Boss.” Simon’s reply comes through.

Negan tucks the radio back onto his belt. He looks at you.

“Let’s go.” He says.

You walk beside him as y’all start to leave the garage. Arthur tries to stop you, since you haven’t finished working on the truck’s engine, but Negan quickly shuts him up. As soon as y’all are outside of the garage, you see Simon standing next to your best friend. At first, she looks nervous, but as soon as she sees you, with Negan holding onto your hand, she looks worried. You glance down at your injured shoulder, and her gaze follows yours. She quickly looks back up at you, questioningly. You nod your head, and she sighs.

“C’mon.” Negan huffs.

(Y/B/F/N) falls in line with you and Negan, who quickly dismisses Simon. Once y’all get to your room, Negan looks at you and hesitates.

“Let me know if you need anything, (Y/N).” He says before turning and walking away.

You shut your bedroom door and immediately start to take your shirt off. (Y/B/F/N) jumps in to help once she sees you struggling. Once your shirt is off, leaving you in your tank top, you sigh. She helps you remove the now completely broken, and useless, shoulder brace. You can’t help but wince at the movements. Even though she’s being extremely careful, it still hurts. She grabs the three ACE bandages you have tucked in your dresser drawer and helps you wrap your shoulder up. Once you feel the pressure of it against your skin, you let out a pained sigh.

It hurts, but it also helps the pain. As soon as your shoulder is properly wrapped, keeping your arm pinned to your side, your best friend helps you into a clean shirt.

“Will you help me keep an eye out for a new brace?” You ask as you settle down onto your bed.

She sits down next to you. “Of course. Although, you know it might cost a lot. It is a medical thing.”

You sigh. “I know.”

“Do you think you’ll have ‘nough points if they find one?”

“I dunno. Maybe if I skip a few meals here and there, I should?”

She doesn’t like your response, but you both know that there’s nothing you can really do. You don’t really get a lot of points from your job as a mechanic, and she makes more since she has one of the better jobs. You go back to work the next day, with your shoulder wrapped. The way (Y/B/F/N) wrapped it mimics the brace you had and allows for you to move your arm a bit. It’s not the best thing, but it’s better than nothing. A few weeks go by, and there’s still no luck of there being a shoulder brace. One day, you hear a couple of your fellow workers talking ‘bout how the Saviors had raided a physical therapist’s office.

You try not to get your hopes up at the thought of there possibly being a shoulder brace for you. You know that it’s most likely not something the Saviors would’ve picked up. But you still do. After you get off work, you head to the commissary, running into (Y/B/F/N) along the way. The two of you head to the medical table. There you see band-aids and simple first aid supplies. Just as you’re ‘bout to give up hope on finding a shoulder brace from today’s run, you see something familiar. You quickly grab it with you good hand, letting out a quiet, yet excited, squeal.

The worker behind the table looks at you funny.

“I don’t know what that is, but it’s 700 points.” He says. “What’s your name?”

“(Y/N)” You reply, holding onto the brace.

He looks at the notebook in front of him. He sighs and looks at you.

“You only have 586 points.” He says.

You sigh. You know you need the brace, but you don’t have ‘nough points. You set it back down on the table where it was. You look for your best friend, and find her at the other end, looking at the ACE bandages.

She looks up at you. “Find one?”

You nod. “Yea…”

“And? Get it.”

“Can’t.”

“Why?”

“Don’t have ‘nough points.”

“How much is it?”

“700.” The worker says.

“Take it from my account. Along with this.” (Y/B/F/N) says.

He asks her for her name and he makes note of it in the book. Your friend hands you the brace.

“C’mon. Let’s go get this situated.” She says.

You follow her back to your room. She helps you get it situated over your tank top. Just as she’s finishing tightening it, three knocks ring out on your door.

“Just a minute.” You say.

“Open the door.”

You freeze as soon as you hear his voice. You look at your best friend.

“I gotta get my shirt on. Now.” You whisper.

She nods and looks for it. You do too. Just as she finds it, under your bed, your door opens. You freeze and so does your friend. You keep your eyes on her as you hear Negan take in a deep breath.

“Doll? What the fuck happened to your shoulder? Is that from that day?” He asks.

“No, sir.” You reply.

“Don’t lie to me.”

You look up at him after your friend nods at you as she stands up. Negan’s missing his leather jacket, his boots, and Lucille.

“I’m not lying, Negan.” You say.

“You sure?” He retorts.

You nod. “Promise. I’ve had shoulder issues since I was three. Years and years of multiple dislocated shoulders really fucks ‘em up. I’ve had to wear braces on my shoulder since I was 20. It adds pressure to the area which allows me to be able to use it a bit. Without the brace and the support it offers, my arm is useless. Without it, I’m in an extreme amount of pain.”

“Is that what was wrong that day in the garage? And why you’ve had issues moving your arm since then?”

You nod. “My brace broke that day. About two hours before you came in and dealt with Frank.”

“What have you used since then?”

“I’ve helped her wrap her shoulder up with ACE bandages every day.” (Y/B/F/N) says.

“Does it work?”

“No. Kinda. It’s not the best thing, but it’s better than nothing.” You say.

“Why didn’t you go wrap it up after the brace broke that day?”

“I tried. Arthur wouldn’t let me leave until I’d finished fixing the truck.”

“Did you tell him?”

You nod. “I told him that I had to go back to my room for an emergency. But, he said no. Not until the engine was fixed.”

“That fucker. I’ll deal with him later. But, as for you, right now, is that thing you have on right now what you need?”

You nod. “It’s actually the best one created for this purpose. It was the one my doctor strongly suggested before the world went to shit. I just never could get one of ‘em ‘cause they’re so expensive. So I always used the cheaper ones.”

“How much was that one?”

“700 points.”

“But…you don’t have that many?”

“No, sir. (Y/B/F/N) used her points to get it.”

Negan looks at your best friend. He just stares at her for a few minutes before nodding.

“Thank you.” He says, softly.

You’re shocked, and you can tell she is too, but she hides the shock quickly. Why’s he thanking her for helping you?

“It’s not a big deal. She’s my best friend, and I’d do anythin’ for her.” (Y/B/F/N) says.

Negan nods again. “I can tell. Would you mind excusing us?”

She hesitates and looks at me. Negan notices and holds his hands up.

“I promise I won’t hurt her. I’d never do that. I just need to talk to her. That’s all.” He says, softly.

You shrug, barely lifting your right shoulder up. Your friend sighs and nods, handing you your t-shirt.

“You let me know if you need anything, ok?” She asks.

“You know I will.” You reply, You taking your shirt and shaking it out so you can slip it on.

She nods and looks at Negan. “I get that you’re the leader, and I might get punished for this, but so fuckin’ help me. If you hurt her in anyway whatsoever, I will personally rip your dick and balls off, shove ‘em so far down your throat that you’ll be shitting them back out, and I will hurt you a hundred times worse than whatever you do to her.”

Negan sucks in a deep breath through his teeth. “Yes, ma’am.”

Your best friend nods and leaves your room. Negan looks at you. You hesitate now, clinging to the piece of cotton and polyester in your hand. He holds his hand.

“Let me see that.” He says, quietly. “Please.”

You hand the shirt over, and he opens it from the bottom. He steps towards you, lowers the shirt down to your left hand, He slides the fabric up and over your left arm via the left armhole. Once it’s on your shoulder, he gently tugs the fabric enough and grasps your right wrist. He repeats the motions with your opposite arm. After the shirt’s on both of your arms, he gently slides it over your head. As soon as your head pokes through, he gently straightens the fabric out so that hangs over your torso, ending just above the pockets on your pants. 

It takes you a moment to realize that he just helped you put your t-shirt on. You look at him, and notice that he’s eyes are warm-looking, and a small, sweet smile plays on his lips. It’s a different side of him that you’ve only seen when he’s ‘round you. A side that no one else in the Sanctuary gets to see.

“Can we sit on your bed? I promise I won’t try anything. I just wanna make sure you’re comfortable, and I know standing must be painful for you.” He says.

You nod. He waits for you to sit down, comfortably on your bed, leaning back against your pillow, which you prop up against the wall. He sits down at the top of your bed, leaning against the wall.

“How did you know my name?” You ask, quietly.

“What?” He asks in confusion.

“My name. That day in the garage. You called me by my name. How did you know it?”

“You told me it when we first met up a year, five months, and twenty-three days ago.”

You look up at him. “And you remembered it? And when we first met?”

He nods, sheepishly, lowering his eyes. “Yeah. I did. How could I not? Did you think I’d forget?”

You nod. “Honestly, yeah. I did.”

He looks at you. “I want you to listen to me. Ok?”

You nod. “Yes, sir.”

“First, you don’t have to call me ‘sir’. Not when it’s just us. Secondly, I couldn’t forget you. Not your name. Not the day we first met. Not the way you get all quiet when you’re nervous. Or the way you scrunch your nose up and clench your teeth in pain. Not the way that your eyes twinkle when you’re happy, or the way that they move rapidly when you’re nervous. Or even the way your cheeks turn a light shade of pink and so do the very tips of your ears when you get flustered. I couldn’t forget you. I can’t forget you.”

“Why?” You ask, quietly.

He hesitates, but finally says something that shocks you even more than his gentleness with you.

“I love you.”

You jerk your eyes up to him, blinking in a mixture of confusion and shock.

“Do what?” You ask.

He lowers his eyes and fiddles with his thumbs, picking at his fingernails.

“I love you.” He murmurs, looking back at you. “That’s why I couldn’t forget you.”

“You love me?” You ask, still not believing him.

He nods. “I’ve loved you since I first met you. I knew I was a goner when your grey eyes met mine and you finished patching up that wound on my stomach.”

He lifts his shirt, showing you the jagged scar that runs along the left side of his stomach, reminding you of the day y’all first met. He lowers his shirt and looks up at you.

“Now. I don’t expect you to say it back to me, of course. But, you asked why I couldn’t forget you, and I had to tell you the truth. I’ve been hiding it for too long.” He says.

“I love you too.” You say.

It’s true. You do. It’s one reason why you’re always getting flustered ‘round him, and sometimes struggle to talk. But, yeah. You do love him. You just never thought he’d feel the same, so you never said anything.

“You do?” He asks.

You nod. “Mmhhmm.”

He smiles. For the first time since you met him, you see that smile. The one you fell in love with. The one that makes his dimples shine, even under all the scruff on his face. The front row of his teeth show, and his tongue peeks out just under ‘em. The corners of his eyes crinkle and his nose scrunches up. You smile back.

“But. That doesn’t mean I’m not going to fall into bed with you, Negan.” You say.

You’d heard stories of his womanizing ways, but you’d never really felt like they were true. You knew he was a big flirt, but that’s really all that knew in that department.

He chuckles. “Um…doll…we’re kinda already in bed together.”

Not thinking, you playfully smack his chest with your left hand. You both let out a grunt. His more playful. Yours more painful. You immediately clutch your shoulder.

He looks at you worriedly. “Doll?”

“I’m fine.” You grunt.

“Bullshit.”

“I’m fine. I promise. I just moved too fast and too high.”

“You gotta be careful. Ok?”

You nod. “I’ll try.”

“What can I do for you?”

“Nothing. I just have to let my shoulder rest.”

“Ok. Go ahead and lie down.”

You hesitate. But, after a moment, you sit forward so you can reach behind you with your right arm and grab your pillow. You hold it in front of you. Making a bold move, you prop your pillow up against his thigh. You twist your body ‘round so that you can lay down on your bed. Kicking your shoes off, you swing your feet up onto the semi-hard mattress. You lay your head against your pillow, which moves slightly. Since your head is now kinda in his lap, you’re forced to look up at him. You’re ok with that for two reasons. 

One, he’s not that bad too look at. And, two, at this angle, it’s better for your shoulder. You’re slightly propped up, but only ‘nough to alleviate some of the pressure and pain in your arm. Negan looks down at you with a silly grin on his face, and an eyebrow raised.

“What?” You ask. “You told me to lie down, and since you’re sitting here, I had to improvise. I can move, if you want?”

He shakes his head quickly. So quickly that for a split second you’re worried he’s gonna give himself whiplash.

“No. You’re perfectly fine. I just wasn’t expecting this. You comfortable?” He asks.

You nod. “Mmhhmm. Being propped up like this, using your thigh, actually eases some of the pain.”

“Yea?”

“Mmhhmm.”

He smiles. “Good. Now, you look exhausted.”

“Mmhhmm.”

He chuckles. “Thought so. Go ahead and get some sleep.”

“You staying here?”

He nods. “If that’s ok with you. You seem comfortable. I won’t try anything. You know I wouldn’t do anything without permission.”

You nod. “I know, and that’s fine.”

He grins. “Good. Then go on. Get some sleep.”

* * *

**Negan’s P.O.V.**

I can’t help but smile as your eyes flutter and eventually close. Within a few minutes, I feel your body relax and your head sinks deeper into the thin pillow on my thigh. I know you’re sound asleep. A few moments after you’ve fallen into a deep sleep, you reach for my hand and bring it to rest over your tummy, keeping your hand over mine. I don’t bother trying to move it. I don’t want to. With my right hand, I reach for my walkie-talkie.

“Simon.” I say quietly into it; I don’t want to wake you up.

“Yes, Boss?” Simons calls back; his voice loud ‘nough to make me jump in your quiet room, and forcing me to turn the volume down.

“Go to channel four.”

“Yes, sir.”

I switch over to a private channel and wait for my right-hand man to do the same. A moment later, I hear his voice.

“What’s up?” He asks.

“I need for you to send (Y/B/F/N) to (Y/N)’s room with two of the fluffiest pillows you can find and two blankets.” I say.

“Yes, sir. I take it you finally told (Y/N)?”

I can hear the smile in his voice. He’s known how I feel ‘bout you since that first day. He’s been trying to encourage me to talk to you.

“I did.” I reply, a smile making itself known on my own face.

He chuckles. “Good. It’s ‘bout damn time. I’ll send (Y/B/F/N) over right away.”

“Thanks, Si.”

“No problem, Boss. Let me know if you need anything else.”

“I will.”

With that, our conversation’s over. I switch back to the main channel before setting the radio on the bed beside my thigh. I grunt slightly as I shift a little bit on the hard mattress. I don’t know how you can sleep on this thing. It’s not comfortable at all. And, I’m sure it can’t be good on your shoulder. I’m gonna get you a new one. And some more pillows. If the slight elevation of your head against my thigh really helps ease your pressure and pain, then I’m definitely gonna get you some more pillows. I run my fingers through your hair as you sleep.

It doesn’t take long for your best friend to show up. Once she sees us on your bed, you laying with your head in my lap, and my hand on your tummy with yours covering mine, she glares at me.

“Negan.” She says, walking closer.

“Shh. She’s sleeping. I don’t wanna wake her.” I whisper.

Your friend’s face softens slightly. “She’s asleep?”

I nod. “Yea. Why?”

“She doesn’t really get much sleep. The pain keeps her up. And, she definitely doesn’t sleep with someone else in the room. Unless it’s me. How’d you get her to sleep?”

“I told her to lay down and she did. Then, I told her to get some sleep, and she just closed her eyes. I think she was really exhausted.”

Your friend nods before gesturing to the pillows and blankets in her arms. I take the pillows from her, and ask her to spread a blanket over you. I’d do it, but I’m scared to move at the moment. I don’t wanna wake you up, nor do I want to cause you pain. I take the other blanket and drape it over my body, being mindful and not covering your head. I tuck one pillow behind my own head. The other one, I place under your left elbow after gently lifting it. You groan in your sleep and your grip on my hand tightens. I quietly apologize, even though I know you’re sleeping.

Your friend looks at me.

“She loves you.” She says after a moment.

“I know. She told me. And, I love her.” I reply.

“I can tell. And, I still stand by my earlier statement.”

“I know.”

“I’m serious. She trusts you and loves you. Two things she doesn’t do with anyone. Don’t you dare fuck it up.”

“I’m not planning on it.”

“Good. As long as you treat her right, we’ll be fine.”

I nod. “Yes, ma’am.”

After a few minutes, and making sure you’re ok, she leaves. I spend the next few months courting you, taking things slow. Evenutally, I get you to move into my room, where you can relax into my comfy, memory foam, California King-sized bed. After nearly a year of dating, I finally pop the question, to which you say yes. Half a year after that, we get married, and nine months later, our little boy is born. I spend the rest of my life taking care of you, being the husband that you deserve and the father our son deserves. I mean, yes, I’m still the leader of the Saviors, but foremost, I’m your husband and I’m our little boy’s father.

The two of y’all mean the world to mean, and I wouldn’t do anything that would jeopardize losing either of you. I even start working with the other communities instead of just dictating them. Of course, I always make sure to keep an eye out for shoulder braces whenever I’m out on a run, and my men know to keep an eye out too. Whenever they find one, they bring it to me, and I store it for you until you need a new one.

**Author's Note:**

> Author's Note(s):  
> I just came up with this after realizing that I’m gonna have to wear a shoulder brace for a long while in order to try and fix my shoulder. After nearly wearing a brace for two years on my hand, I know what it’s like, and boy, it’s rough. But it is what it is. You do what you gotta do to get better, right? 
> 
> I know that TWD depicts Negan as a badass who doesn’t give a shit, and quite a few fanfics do too, and that’s perfectly ok. But, me being the hopeless romantic that I am, I try to find the good in everyone, even when they’re a bat-wielding lunatic in a zombie apocalypse. Life is rough, and when you go through shit, it changes a person. That part’s true. But, I still like to believe that no matter how bad something changes you, there’s still some good left in you, and it just takes the right person or circumstances to bring it out again.


End file.
